


Needed

by shehui (p0lluxe)



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism, Yikes, btd, literally DONT READ THIS IF U JUST WANT MY OTHER STUFF, ren hana - Freeform, ren is a dirty bed sniffer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p0lluxe/pseuds/shehui
Summary: Ren gets into a bit of a situation when he follows Vincent to his house.
Relationships: Ren Hana/Vincent Metzger
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Needed

Ren stood in the doorway of Vincent's small bedroom, his toes curling nervously into the worn floor, the hair on his neck standing straight up with the chill from an open window, and he had absolutely no clue what to do with himself. 

He  wanted (needed?) to be there, he knew it was  safe,  he knew that Vicent's looks across the bar had had to have meant  something  and that his watery smiles back had communicated something  else (though he...wasn't entirely sure what?) but he couldn't quite convince his body that it wasn't about to be hurt in ways he didn't want it to be. 

He wanted it to be hurt. In the right ways. Just a little, just to see how it would  _feel_ to-

He shook himself.

Ren took a deep breath. His ears flickered forward and back, watchful, anxious, always listening for the creak of stairs, for the thud of a hammer. He wanted to be sure...

He _needed_ to be sure. 

Ren sniffed a few times, unable to stop himself, really, although it wasn't like the room would tell even his sensitive nose much of anything what with the window sweeping the city air in, with a vase of fresh flowers (he never seemed the type?) laying a heady, sweet scent over everything.

He could still smell Vincent though. Traces of him where his hand had lingered on the front doorknob where Ren had rattled and slunk his way in, the soft traffic noise (he hoped to God) disgusing the  _click-click_ of his barefoot claws on the concrete porch and the  _ snick - thunk _ of the heavy lock (why was it such a  piece of work? ) and the hitch of Ren's breath (was he _really_ doing this?) as he opened the door and crept inside. 

There were little signs of Vincent and his  intoxicating scent all through the house. It wasn't difficult to follow it to his room, the smell of sweat, of stale booze, of his  _cologne and his hair and_ -

And now Ren was standing in his room, in his house, and he didn't. Quite know what he should do next. 

His tail swished around the bedroom door. Maybe he should just go. This wasn't the way to do it, Strade wouldn't do it like this, Ren  shouldn't do it like this-except for Strade _would_ have done it like this and maybe Ren just wanted a little taste of what Vincent's unmade bed would feel like against his hands.

Needed.

Heart in his throat, Ren tiptoed further into the bedroom, trying to keep his fingers from trembling as he undid a few of the top buttons on his shirt. He sidled up to the bed, bony chest half bare, and let his tail curl dangerously around the bedpost. He was sweating. He was shaking. He was starting to feel his cock harden just the slightest bit in his jeans. 

He took the corner of one of the blankets between his fingers, the softness and frayed edges like static crackles, heightened and illicit. 

This was wrong.

He shouldn't be here.

This is what Strade would have done.

This was wrong and he needed a little more. 

His head buzzed frantically with the old, well worn neurological pathways that screamed,  _screamed_ at him to  _get out get out this isn't safe_ - but he wasn't listening.

The prickles of fear, of  anticipation  continued as he placed one leg over the bed, gripping a pillow with increasing intensity. His trembling fingers traced the places where Vincent must have laid his head last night. Ren could imagine the warmth of him, the weight of him indented into the soft mattress. He started to pant slightly at this particular thought, though his ears were still attentive, his tail still swishing softly over the sheets. Hesitantly, Ren sat on the bed with the pillow between his knees, not really sure how good of an idea this was. But as Vincent's scent wafted over him again, much stronger in his sheets (had he washed them  _ever_ ?) Ren couldn't stop himself from groaning through his teeth and grinding sharply into the pillow. He moaned again as the slight friction made his cock twitch and ache. He whined, wanting,  _needing_ more than this. Shakily, he undid the rest of his shirt buttons, shrugging the garment off as his skin burned feverishly with how much he wanted (needed) this. He dug his sharp teeth into his bottom lip as he pushed more insistently against the pillow, one hand scratching softly across his chest as he moaned into the empty room. His toes curled as he imagined Vincent's eyes across the smoky, dingy bar, his hands on the bottle in front of him and his mouth wrapping around the top. Ren thought of his hips...rocking his own harder and faster into the bed...Ren brought his fingers to his mouth...imagined Vincent's hand instead of his own grabbing his ass...spreading him...listening to Ren whisper how close  _how fucking close he was_ instead of the empty room. 

And that's when he heard the front door slam shut.

Ren rocketed off the bed, pillow abandoned in the middle of the mattress (no time to worry about how conspicuously out of place it was),landed on all fours and scrambled into the closet all in the space of two of his frantic heartbeats.

His cock was still hard. 

Sticky wetness had just begun to spread along the tip as he was interrupted-the thought made heat surge through him even in this situation. 

He pulled the doors shut as softly as he could, knowing full fucking well that Vincent's bed was a mess of dented pillows and orange fur. His ears were flat against his head as he crouched on the floor on top of a few jackets that Vincent had heaped unceremoniously in a back corner. Ren thanked whatever god might be watching that Vincent's closet was relatively large, large enough for the world's _stupidest_ fox to hide in with some effectiveness. He pulled a few of the coats and sweatshirts over his legs and back, hoping they would hide him from a quick glance into the closet. Upon taking a deep breath to calm his skittering heart, he realized (with a giddy rush he wouldn't like to admit he felt) that the heap was a laundry pile and smelled like _him_. And Ren was hiding in it and the scent was all around him and it was even more enveloping this close. Ren felt his dick twitch despite himself. He was just peering through a crack in the door that he could just make out from his place pressed against the back wall of the closet, trying to figure wether or not he could make a frantic dash for the window on the opposite side of the room when heavy footsteps sounded outside the room. 

Ren froze. This was fucking it. If he got caught now he didn't WANT to know what would happen. 

Or maybe he did? 

The bed creaked as Vincent threw himself onto it. He muttered something to himself, then grunted. His movements abruptly stopped.

"The  _fuck_ ?"

Ren slammed his eyes shut and tried to stop his shaking.

Vincent gave an irritable rumble that Ren couldn't make out, and then there was the sound of footsteps receeding, pacing around the bed. Ren twitched an ear. Was he going to ignore the state of his bed? The fur? The...the pillow?

Ren heard the hiss of a can being opened and the slurp of Vincent taking a long drink before sitting back down on the bed.

Ren could see him now through the chink in the wood of the closet door. His head spun. What was he  _doing_ ? Wasn't he going to find Ren hiding? Probably beat him to a pulp? 

Vincent flipped on the television. He sipped his beer. He scratched his head, kicked a boot off carelessly. He looked bored. At ease. Not at all how one would expect a scarred up asshole like him to react to finding his room in a state of disarray that he probably hadn't left it in. And yet here he was, proppping his feet up on Ren's pillow (mortifying) and flipping through a few channels until some shitty late night TV came on and he drank another beer while Ren began to restart his heart in the closet. 

Could Ren hide here all night? Escape while Vincent was asleep? Crawl into bed with him?

No. Not that. Definitely not that.

The window? Dig a hole into his floor? Ren's thoughts couldn't keep from circling back to Vincent's bare feet on the pillow, his hand undoing his belt-

Wait. _What_?

Ren's eyes widened and his ears involuntary twitched forward as Vincent's hands went to his crotch and his tail lashed as Vincent began rubbing his admittedly intimidating cock. Right. In front. Of Ren. 

Ren's eyes flickered shut. No way this was happening. No way the guy whose house he'd fucking broken into, whose bed he'd gotten off on, whose closet he was desperately hiding in now was going to give him such a tease of a show.

Ren could have drooled over that thick cock, his throat _ached_ to take it deep and feel Vincent come in his mouth, hot, thick, acid. As Vincent's hand began to move faster, Ren, unable to stop himself, slipped a hand into his own boxers, trying to keep from crying out as he gripped his aching dick and it spilled precum over his fingers in a second. 

Ren gripped his shaft harder, moving in time to the jingle of of Vincent's belt buckle. Vincent shifted on the bed as he hit a rythm he liked, growling, stroking his dick harder. The sound nearly undid Ren right there-as it was he groaned into the palm of his other hand. He went faster, barely able to control his breath as he shifted closer to the door to get a better veiw of Vincent. Propped up on the pillows and his legs carelessly spread he looked absolutely fucking perfect. The expression on his face drove Ren to panting. He pressed one of Vincent's jackets to his mouth and nose in an attempt to stifle his ragged breathing and Vincent's smoky, sweet smell went straight to his dick. He pressed the garment closer to his face as he inhaled again, his tongue darting out to feel, to taste, to  mark  that scent. He moaned, forgetting for a moment where he was but Vincent didn't hear. He was too busy and the TV was still too loud and so Ren figured it wouldn't be much harm to get a little closer look nearer to the door but...

As he crawled across the floor, jeans around his knees and one hand still desperately jacking himself off he slipped. His free hand had connected with something round, hidden in the semi-dark of the closet. Something round, brittle, and the source of a pervasive rotten smell he hadn't been able to place until he was tripping over it, crashing into the door from the inside and tumbling out as Vincent leapt up from the bed with a yell. Ren tried to shriek with fear and frustation and anger but no sound came out as he looked right into Vincent Metzger's face. Ren's back was pressed into the wood floor and his clothes were tangled around him but he didn't waste a second in bolting for the bedroom window. He was fast, small and light as he was. He had to be to survive around Strade (sometimes he'd get sick of chasing), but this time Vincent pounced on him and grabbed his ankle as he tried to scrabble through the window. Vincent laughed. He yanked Ren back into the room and this time Ren screamed. Now he was scared. His eyes were huge as he looked up at Vincent, a million excuses spiraling in his head but all that came out was "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry". Like that had ever helped.

Vincent grinned.

To Ren's utter shock, he was lifted off the floor with hardly any effort and slammed into the mattress face first. He couldn't deny how that made him feel, especially when he felt something warm and thick and rock hard press up against his ass. 

"I thought I smelled fuckin' fox on my way in. Didn't realize how right I was." His words were right against Ren's flattened ears. His breath was hot and smelled like beer. Ren melted.

His knee slammed into Ren's belly, forcing a cry out of him and his hips upward into Vincent's.

"You wanted to play? Let's fuckin' play."

Ren turned to look up at him, his arms pinned and his knees digging into the bed. He felt Vincent's hand grip his chin and force fingers into Ren's mouth.

He was never hiding in a closet again.


End file.
